Painting Flowers

A couple of months passed, and Alex became my closest friend. We stayed at each other’s house nearly every weekend and basically became like siblings because of how well we knew each other.

The only downside was that I couldn’t talk to him when I was in school because I had my own group of friends there, and they’d call me weird for even associating myself with Alex. I wanted more than anything to not care about their thoughts and just talk to him anyway, but unfortunately I was an insecure piece of shit, and I latched on to any source of communication like a leech, especially if it were popular guys who had invested their time in me. I wasn’t about to go and blow my first group of friends in forever, was I?

But today, Alex wasn’t in school, and it made me weirdly uneasy ‘cause he was always in (I was pretty sure he was the only person in the whole year with a perfect attendance record). Vinny said that I looked like I had diarrhoea in Math ‘cause Alex wasn’t sitting in front of me and I was nervous about what might have happened to him, so I was acting all jumpy and quiet for the whole day. I swore at Vinny. He shut up.

When the bell for last period final went off, relief flooded through my veins and I shot up from my seat in History, slinging my bag over one shoulder and heading out of the building towards the buses alone. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, and no-one wanted to talk to me, so the world was at balance.

“Bus, bus, slow fucking bus,” I hummed, tapping my fingers against my thighs once I was in a seat by myself. Alex’s mom’s car wasn’t here to pick him up, so it wasn’t just like he’d been avoiding me all day; something was up. I bit on my lower lip, staring out the window as the bus engine rattled into life and we finally began to move away from the brick red building, leaving behind all the assholes and taking me back home.

I pulled my iPod out my jacket pocket and unravelled the earphones, putting the buds in and ignoring the world around me with some Less Than Jake. I relaxed into my seat a little, smiling and mouthing the words along as I stared out the window. As the song ended, I brought my iPod up to scroll through my music and choose the next song to put on, when I suddenly noticed the date.

“12/14/03”

Oh shit.

Alex’s birthday.

My eyes narrowed and I brought the screen closer to my face to examine the pixels further. Yup, definitely the 14th of December. My iPod wasn’t kidding (also, that would explain why it had been getting colder and colder lately- I hadn’t been paying attention to the date, and I was wondering why it was suddenly too cold to go outside in just a shirt).

I tried to think of what to get Alex for his birthday. Maybe the new Harry Potter book he’d been whining on and on about. I was pretty positive that May had a copy, so I could just take it from her when she wasn’t looking. Problem solved, right?

I started to think that maybe Alex was off ‘cause it was his birthday and he’d gone out to celebrate with his family and not told me. The thought kinda hurt, but ‘course I had to realise that Alex had his parents who loved him, and probably a bunch of aunts and uncles and other relatives who were gonna visit him. And ‘course he wouldn’t want me there; I was always far too loud and rude. Hm.

A few minutes later, the bus rolled to a halt outside my house, and I automatically got off without any thought, mind too caught up in humming along to Good Charlotte and worrying about Alex.

So I didn’t even stop myself when I stepped down onto the sidewalk and began to walk to Alex’s house instead of mine, even though I’d never even been through his front door (I was just used to sliding in through Alex’s window). His mom’s car was parked in the driveway, so they weren’t out having a meal anywhere. That was one possibility ticked off.

I felt awkward as I stepped up to Alex’s front door and knocked a few times. Nothing. I carelessly tore out my earphones, leaving them dangling in one fist as I used the other the door again, but still nothing happened- no shuffling of footsteps, no calls of, “I’ll get it!”, no hip-hop songs blasting through the walls. (Alex probably wasn’t holding a massive party in the lounge, then.) So I just went in.

It felt so morally wrong as I turned the doorknob and pushed the front door open, silently stepping inside and looking around. The place seemed empty, and it felt like I was a burglar and planning on stealing everything in the still house. There was a bouquet of daisies in a glass on a shelf I passed, and a few photos of Alex when he was younger with some other boy (his brother, I quickly realised), but I was only able to take a fleeting look around before my footsteps took me to a staircase, presumably upstairs towards Alex’s room. (I had no idea if he was even up there; I was just going on pure guesswork and luck.)

His house was really similar to mine, besides the fact that silence echoed through the walls, rather than me, May and Joe yelling at each other in mine. I thought that it would be awesome to be an only child, but then I also realised that it would be lonely. And if there was one thing I hated, it was being alone.

I'd reached the top of the stairs, and I looked around the hallway. It was so weird; it felt like trespassing as I glanced around the landing, a table with a vase of flowers and a few photo frames standing on the carpet to my left, a large window looking out to the cul-de-sac that curved round the end of the street to my right. I glanced up to see three doors in front of me.

The one nearest the window and the one in the middle were just blank wooden doors, but the remaining one had a large piece of paper on it, neatly stuck onto the surface with tape. It read "ALEX" in that kinda fancy writing that people do when you're abroad in Europe on the streets, with all the reds and greens and blues and stuff (I'd got one when I'd visited Portugal with my family when I was 10, but Joe tore it up when we were in some dumb argument a few years ago). I guess that made finding Alex's room a little easier.

I smirked to myself, stepping forwards over the carpet and grasping the door handle of his room when I reached it. Slowly, I pushed it down and began to open up the door, biting my lip and wincing as the hinges squeaked loudly, and I hoped to god that neither of his parents came out and saw me sneaking into their son's bedroom.

But no, nobody noticed as I slipped through the door and pushed it back closed again, licking my lips and smiling, a sense of self pride filling me. I could be like James Bond or some secret spy or something, coming into Alex's house and finding his room and going into it. Add some guns and a hell of a lot more half naked girls, and you would have the basic plot to any action movie.

As I turned around, I realised that the curtains were drawn across the window that I usually came through, and no lights were on, leaving me in mostly darkness in Alex's room. I bit my lip. Was he even in? Maybe he was away, and I'd just snuck into his room with nobody here. Now, that wasn't very Bond-esque. Perhaps I wasn't destined to be an action star. Dreams for half a minute dashed.

"Alex?" I asked into the room, my words cutting like a knife through the silence.

I almost jumped a foot in the air when I heard a mumbling voice reply, "Mhm?" from in front of me, distorted slightly under some sort of fabric. As I squinted slightly, I could make out the vague outline of his bed, and there was a little lump underneath a pile of duvets and pillows. Huh. So he'd been sleeping. He was even lazier than me.

"It is your birthday," I informed him, "and you were not in school today."

"Jack?" he croaked, and I heard him flick a switch somewhere beside him, then the whole room was flooded with a dim light omitting from his bedside lamp. I crinkled my nose at the sudden brightness. "Mmph... how did you get in my house?" It sounded like he had a blocked nose.

"Your door was unlocked. Lucky for you, I'm not a serial killer, I'm just curious. Although, they're kinda the same thing, aren't they?"

Alex groaned into his pillow, and I laughed, walking over to his bedside and inviting myself to sit down on his mattress. He turned his head slightly and glared at me, eyes narrowed and hair a mess. I just smiled at him. "What?" he asked, throat all scratchy and groggy.

"I just came over to check on you. Y'know, 'cause I'm so nice. And it's your birthday and everything," I shrugged. Alex sighed, his eyes falling closed again. "So why weren't you at school today?"

"I was sick," he told me. "I am sick. Throwin' up everywhere. Gross stuff. Anyway, you wouldn't have talked to me in school, you never do." He sighed again, then he coughed a few times, which totally killed his moody vibe. "Ugh, I hate being sick. Why do bad things happen to good people?"

"I don't know," I said. "But you are sick, and today is your seventeenth birthday, which isn't the best present you could've ever received. Like, y'know, happy birthday! You're a grown up! Now die."

"I'm not gonna die," Alex muttered, nuzzling his nose in his pillow and humming slightly. "I might vomit on you a little, but... no death. Nope."

"Good," I said, and I reached my hand forward to run my fingers through his bed head. Alex just smiled slightly into his covers. "I can't have my sidekick dying, that is unacceptable."

"How'm I your sidekick?" he asked defensively. "It's Alex and Jack, not Jack and Alex. In the same way it's Batman and Robin, not Robin and Batman."

"It's so Jack and Alex," I said, rolling my eyes. "Alex and Jack just sounds weird. Besides, I'd be Batman outta the two of us. I'm cooler, like Bruce Wayne."

"Okay, whatever, I'm not in the mood for arguing; I'm in the mood for being sick," said Alex from beneath me. My fingers were still brushing through his hair, untangling knots, but Alex hadn't told me to stop, so I assumed that he liked it. His hair was soft, too, so I didn't mind that much. "Hmph. Feed me, Barakat."

"But I'm the guest," I said, frowning. "Well, if you call sneaking into your house being a guest. But it's a broad term, so I think that comes under it, y'know?"

Alex just smiled. "Can you pleeeeeeeeeaase bring me up something to eat? And some water? And medicine?"

"I'm not your servant, I only came over here to see why you were off today," I said.

Alex looked up at me, bottom lip jutting out and brown eyes widened. "Please, Jacky? I'm sick. Blegh."

"Fine," I sighed, rolling my eyes at Alex's wide grin. "Just don't call me Jacky, that's a girl's name."

"'Kay," he said, smirking to himself, eyes following as me as I took my fingers out of his hair and stood up from his bed , making my way back over to his bedroom door and pulling it open. "My mom's in the kitchen, by the way, so just say that you're Jack and you're getting some stuff for me and... yeah. Thanks."

“I didn’t see her when I came in, it was all, like, silent and stuff,” I said, turning around and facing him. “I didn’t think you were in.”

“So you just expected to walk into my empty room?” Alex questioned, laughing when I nodded. “Ha. Okay. Now gimme food.”

I rolled my eyes. "Okay. Expect your goods delivered in 5-10 working days."

Alex grinned as I left the door open and walked across the landing, holding into the banister and going down the stairs. As I arrived at the bottom hall again, I looked around, trying to find out where the kitchen was, 'cause I realised Alex hadn't told me. What a helpful guy he was.

Just at that moment, a call of, "Alex? Is that you?" came from an arch in the wall to my right. I followed the voice and peeked into the room it led into, seeing a woman standing over an oven and stirring something.

"Um," I said, and she span around immediately, narrowing her penciled-in eyebrows as she looked up and down at me. "Hi, I'm, uh, Alex's friend, Jack, he told me to come down here an-"

"Jack!" she suddenly said, her face breaking into a smile and her eyes now looking at me warmly. She had a really strong British accent. "Oh, Alex's told me lots about you. How are you?"

"I'm good, I guess," I shrugged. "I noticed Alex wasn't in today, so I came up for him to see what was up, but-"

"He's sick," finished Alex's mom, sighing and turning back to the oven, grasping the spoon in her hand and circling it in a large pot on top of the stove. "I don't know where he got it from, perhaps there's a bug going around his school or something like that. It's a real shame it happened on his birthday, though, he told me only last night that he was looking forward to seeing you today."

That made me smirk, and I stepped over the checkered tiles to stand beside her and watch her cook. "Yeah, Alex is my best friend, so, y'know, 's a shame how he's sick. He, uh, asked me to bring him up some stuff, though...?"

She laughed, loud and genuine. I think I liked Alex's mom; she reminded me of my own in some ways. "Don't become his slave, now, Jack, that boy can be so lazy sometimes."

"Yeah, I went into his room and he was sleeping," I laughed, watching as Alex's mom put some green vegetable into the thing she was stirring. "He asked me to get him some food and water and, uh, his medication?"

"Hm," she said, "There's a bottle of water in the fridge. I'll give him some chicken soup up, he really likes that, plus it's good for when you're feeling sick." I nodded. "Oh, and he has his medicine up there," she said, pointing her free hand up to a cabinet above my head, and I ducked my head out of the way to look up at it.

"Okay," I said, opening the cupboard she'd pointed to and coming face to face with a few dozen small brown bottles, each labeled with different weird sciency names. "There's tons of them, which one is it?"

"Tofranil," Alex's mom said, and I poked through the bottles for a while, before I found the right one. "He's already taken his Xanax pills for today, I think."

"What are they for, just to get rid of flu and sickness and stuff, yeah?" I asked, closing the cabinet and going over to the fridge (at least, I hoped it was a fridge, 'cause it had magnets and post cards from England and Spain and Italy stuck on it). I pulled open the handle and gave a slight breath of relief as I realised I'd got it right, that this was the fridge, and I'd not accidentally just opened a flux capacitor or something.

I pulled out a bottle of water as I heard Alex's mom say, "Oh no, Tofranil is for his panic attacks and anxiety, Xanax is his antidepressants. The chicken soup is to help him get feeling better, and maybe not be sick."

I froze, feeling my blood turn cold. Wait. Alex had panic attacks, anxiety and depression, and he'd never told me? Like, I knew about Tom dying and stuff, but I had no clue about any of those disorders. He seemed fine, and I'd never seen him take any pills before... "Alex has stuff wrong with him?"

His mom glanced around at me for a second, her gaze immediately returning to her pot of soup afterwards. "Well, 'wrong with him' is a hit harsh, but... he quite frequently takes panic and anxiety attacks, and he's got dysthymia, which is a type of chronic depression. He's usually rather good at hiding it, though, so... I wouldn't take it personally if he's not told you by now. We didn't know he had it until he was fourteen, and he'd had it by two years by that time. Anyway, his soup's ready, so if you could be a darling and get me a bowl from the cupboard next to the one with his medication and things."

I nodded silently, my mind racing and trying to digest this new information as I put the brown bottle and the water down on the countertop, my hands reaching up and opening up a cupboard, pulling out a purple bowl and setting it down alongside the two other things. Glancing over to see Alex's mom use a ladle to pour it into the bowl I'd picked out, I went over to the other end of the kitchen and grabbed a tray out from beside a toaster and coffee maker. It had daisies and bumblebees on it, and I found myself staring at the little cartoon figures as I walked back over to the stove.

"Okay, I've got a spoon for him, so just be careful taking this up to Alex now, alright?" she said, and I put the water and the brown bottle of... Tofranil, was it? on the tray, Alex's mom placing a metal spoon in the purple bowl and then putting it beside the two bottles. "It's been a pleasure meeting you, Jack, hopefully I'll see you a little more often around here, hmm?"

I nodded, smiling, and I lifted up the tray in both my hands and walking out of the kitchen, turning left up the staircase again and taking each step slowly so that I didn't stumble and fall, pouring hot soup all over myself, 'cause once in a lifetime is enough for something like that to happen.